CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: LINES WE DRAW

The intel hadn’t been clear, but the implications were.

Taylor crouched at the old terminal in the annex of the Batcave, the one covered in a thin layer of dust and barely touched except for archive pulls and deep data scrapes. The screen blinked in front of her, a bit grainy but legible, the decrypted file running its loop again. Satellite pings. Thermal anomalies. Encrypted chatter coalesced into a list of names.

And one stood out in particular.

The mayor.

Christopher Nakano.

She leaned closer, her brow furrowed. The League of Shadows had a target. And that target was hosting a charity ball tonight in Crest Hill—deep in the heart of Gotham’s upper crust. Cameras. Press. Politicians in suits pretending not to be afraid of the dark. The exact kind of event that would have heavy security, press coverage, and absolutely no chance of surviving a League strike.

It was the perfect opportunity.

She leaned back from the monitor, heart hammering. Though not out of fear, but focus. 

This wasn’t a smuggling route. This wasn’t a whispered deal in a shadowed alley. This wasn’t something she could afford to miss.

It was a kill order. Coordinated. High-profile. Imminent.

By the time her mind caught up with the weight of what she’d found, she was already halfway into her gear, strapping her protective pads on with practiced speed.

Then—footsteps. Heavy yet measured, deliberately so.

“Stop.”

She didn’t need to turn. The weight of the voice said enough.

Batman.

She spoke through gritted teeth. “They’re going after him. Tonight.”

“I know.”

She spun on him, fists clenched. “Then what the hell are we still doing here?”

He descended the stairs into the annex, cape trailing behind him, shadows cleaving to his shape like they recognized him as one of their own. “Because rushing in without a plan is what the enemy expects. You know that.”

“I’m not rushing,” she snapped. “I’m responding. There’s a difference.”

“In an inadequate gear. Alone. No backup and no field net.” His voice turned colder, clipped. “That’s not a response, Taylor. That’s ego.”

She took a step forward, eyes hard. “And what would you have me do? Sit back and wait for someone else to die?”

“I’d have you act like part of this team.” The edge in his voice were barely restrained with emotion. It was the first time she’d heard Batman crack, even slightly. “You don’t trust us. Not really. You play by your own rules, disappear without telling anyone. And every time you do, you show us we can’t rely on you.”

That struck harder than it should have.

She folded her arms across her chest, more shield than stance. “It’s not about trust.”

“Then what is it?”

Silence stretched between them, strained.

She didn’t have a good answer, at least one that didn’t sound like a deflection. Didn’t have a reason that didn’t taste like fear. Like an excuse. 

Her voice came out low, almost more to herself than to him. She turned away. “I can’t sit here and do nothing. I need to move. Anything’s better than standing still.”

He studied her for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter too—but no less firm.

“You’re doing something—something that matters. Just remember, you’re not alone in this.”

That—more than any accusation, more than any mission debrief or training critique—hit like a fist to the gut. Because this was what they wanted. Not control. Not compliance. But connection. To rely on people who had proven, over and over again, that they weren’t her enemies. To stop feeling like she was carrying the whole weight of the city on her own anymore.

Slowly, she turned back to him. “Then don’t treat me like a liability.”

He met her gaze. “Don’t act like one.”

The words hung there. Not cruel. Just true.

Then she let out a breath, tension unspooling from her shoulders. They’d offered the olive branch enough times. Maybe it was time she stopped pretending she didn’t want to take it. 

“Fine. We stop the League. Together.”

Batman nodded, a small smile on his face. “Good.”

Nightwing dropped down from the platform above, already suited up, mask in place. Spoiler appeared a second later, sliding into a run, buckling her utility belt as she moved. Batgirl rolled down the ramp beside them, calm and composed, a beatific smile on her face.

They were ready.

Taylor straightened her shoulders. She wasn’t sure if this made her part of something real. Not yet.

But for tonight, it would be enough. 

And for the first time, she didn’t mind that it wasn’t just her walking into the fire.